


one banana split sundae, please

by meridies



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Fluff, Gen, Ice Cream Parlors, Mischief, which goes unmanaged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:40:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27058129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meridies/pseuds/meridies
Summary: When Tommy's parents refuse to sign his Hogsmeade permission slip, Tommy is forced to search for other options.
Relationships: Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 28
Kudos: 689





	one banana split sundae, please

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strbrrymilk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strbrrymilk/gifts).



> for adam!! i hope u enjoy this early treat, happy halloween <3

Every incoming third year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was given one very important thing at the start of their summer vacation: a Hogsmeade permission slip, written in black ink upon thick, folded parchment paper, and ready to be signed by a parent or guardian and delivered back to the student’s Head of House in time for the first Hogsmeade weekend trip.

Tommy, who had already been at Hogwarts for two years and who had heard many tales about the Hogsmeade trips that older students went on, had been anxiously checking the horizon line for owls nearly every day since returning home from the end of his second year. 

Granted, he hadn’t much else to do; the end of Tommy’s second year at Hogwarts had been catastrophic. There was really no need to get into the details of it, but it involved one duel between him and another student, two weeks in the hospital wing, a burned down ancient tapestry, and a mysterious transformation of an entire school corridor into a magical swamp. Of course, with Tommy’s rotten luck, he had gotten blamed for all of it.

Thus, he was grounded for the entire summer. And to make matters entirely worse, when his Hogsmeade permission slip finally arrived, his parents had taken one look at it, tossed it to the side, and firmly told him to _wait for your fourth year._

It was complete and utter bullshit. Didn’t they know that telling Tommy not to go to Hogsmeade would only make him want to do it more? Didn’t they realize they were practically setting him up to get into more trouble? He didn’t even want to wreak havoc on Hogsmeade, he just wanted to go and experience the only Wizarding settlement that far north. Maybe visit Honeydukes, too, or maybe Zonko's, just to play a few pranks. But nothing _too_ serious. Nothing that would actually get him in trouble!

Tommy unfurled the slip of paper, which had been sitting, pressed flat by a textbook on his bedside table for the last three weeks, and read it again. Out loud, he muttered, “This… form… must… be… signed… by… a… parent… or… guardian….”

He wrinkled his nose and set it back down on his bedside table. Hogwarts was definitely going to be on the lookout for falsified signatures. And unfortunately, Tommy may be a clever little shit at the best of times, but one skill that he was lacking was forging signatures. And as he only had one good friend, who was similarly bad at forging signatures, that meant that there was practically no way it would get signed.

He couldn’t believe his third year was going to start out so poorly. How much worse could things get? First an entire summer of being grounded, stuck at home and writing essays, and now an entire year’s worth of watching all his classmates go out on the weekends to come back with pockets full to bursting with loot from Honeydukes and Zonko's loot. And there he would be, cooped up with all of the first and second years, like he was just another child. 

Tommy scowled and slumped back on his bed. He couldn’t wait for this summer to be over, even if his third year was already looking down.

* * *

It was the final week of August, at barely eight in the morning, when Tommy dragged his trunk up three whole flights of stairs in the Leaky Cauldron, collapsed on the dusty mattress with a sigh, and threw his arm over his face. He was exhausted. 

Thankfully, he didn’t have any residual stress about not having completed his summer homework; he had had ample time over the summer to do that, and he hadn’t procrastinated all of his History of Magic essays like he had last summer. He was deeply looking forward to this last week, where he could wander around Diagon Alley unprompted and could have some taste of freedom before returning to Hogwarts. 

He laid there for a few minutes, allowing himself to recover his pounding breath from dragging everything upstairs, and then, in a moment of inspiration, leapt up from the bed. He was in Diagon Alley! What was he doing lying around and being lazy? This was his one week in the whole summer when his parents couldn’t reign him in. He had ample excuses at his fingertips to use for when he wanted to be free of them. Besides, he had an entire shopping list tucked into the back pocket of his jeans that he needed to complete. 

“Tuck your shirt in, scruffy,” the mirror advised, in a wheezing old voice, and Tommy grinned at his reflection. 

“Thank you,” he said cheerfully, and slammed the door on his way out. 

The morning air was cool and crisp, fog hanging low over the entirety of Diagon Alley. Even though it was the early hours of the morning, the entire Leaky Cauldron was alive with motion. Dishes washed themselves in the kitchen, which Tommy caught sight of through a pair of swinging wooden doors. As different people got up and moved from tables, finishing their breakfasts and leaving the plates behind, washrags came around and scrubbed off the places where they were sitting for them. Tommy stuffed his hands into his jeans pockets and took a moment to simply breath in the feeling of being surrounded by magic again. 

Tommy took a seat at one of the back tables and, over a cup of hot cocoa and a plate of buttered toast, surveyed the room to see if there was anyone he recognized. In the final week before classes started, nearly everyone and their mother had booked a room at the Leaky Cauldron to do back-to-school shopping. Tommy himself needed to buy the entirety of the recommended booklist for Hogwarts third-years, as well as a few other things— he was taking Care of Magical Creatures this year, and he needed a few supplies for that as well.

Then someone very familiar walked through the door, and Tommy was out of his chair without a second thought. 

“Tubbo!” Tommy shouted, and nearly bowled his friend over. 

“Tommy!” Tubbo cheered back, and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Tommy realized he had grown maybe an entirety of two full inches over the summer, because he was now tall enough to perch his chin on top of Tubbo’s head if he stood tall enough. “I missed you!”

“My parents wouldn’t let me owl you,” Tommy said, when they finally separated. “I was sitting there the entire summer bored out of my goddamn mind.” 

“I owled you a few times before realizing you probably couldn’t respond,” Tubbo admitted. “It’s been so long since we’ve talked! You have to tell me everything.”

“There’s nothing much to tell,” Tommy said disappointedly. “I was grounded for the entire summer.”

Tubbo’s eyes widened. “The entire summer?”

Tommy nodded dejectedly.

“That sucks,” Tubbo said sympathetically, and then awkwardly continued, “So did you just get to Diagon Alley? Have you done any shopping yet?” 

Tommy shook his head. “I haven’t done anything, I just got into the Leaky Cauldron an hour ago, practically. I was waiting for more students to arrive so I could have something to do but then I heard you were arriving today!”

“I got here last night,” Tubbo said, and grabbed the sleeve of Tommy’s jacket and tugged him merrily along. “I haven’t gotten any of my books yet, I’ve been waiting for people the same as you. We can go get them together.”

Tommy allowed himself to get tugged along for the ride and couldn’t help himself from grinning whenever Tubbo accidentally got shouldered by someone much taller than him. “Are we headed to Flourish and Blotts?”

“Yup!” Tubbo said, and ducked under someone’s outstretched arm. Tommy followed. “I’m thinking about getting a new cauldron for this year, my pewter one nearly melted last spring and I don’t want to be stuck at Hogwarts without one.” 

“How did you melt your cauldron?” Tommy asked, trying to distract himself.

Tubbo tried to hold back a laugh and failed, “Remember that Potions class where you threw a crocodile heart at the professor and lost fifty points for Gryffindor?”

Tommy snorted and nodded. Early, Tubbo continued, “Well, it was that same week, we were brewing Strengthening Solutions and I ended up adding pomegranate juice instead of salamander blood…”

Thus began a long winded story involving some illegal potions ingredients, a neon pink fire that wouldn’t go out, and someone’s burnt frilly dress robes. By the end of telling it, in which they had reached the front door of Flourish and Blotts, Tommy laughed so hard that his stomach hurt and he was doubled over. 

Tubbo was Tommy’s best friend and a Slytherin third year to boot. The two of them had hit it off, perks of finding the only train compartment left empty at the beginning of their first year, and had been inseparable ever since. Some professors had even begun calling them double trouble, for where there was Tommy, one found Tubbo, and where there were Tommy and Tubbo, one found trouble as well. 

But despite becoming close friends on the Hogwarts Express, Tommy had been sorted into Gryffindor in the barest moment the Sorting Hat touched his head, and Tubbo had been sorted into Slytherin. 

Tommy hadn’t been sure whether he was happy about it or upset, because of course going into Hogwarts he had heard all of the preconceptions. Gryffindors were brash and arrogant and somewhat full of themselves, Ravenclaws were dull, snobbish, and studious, Hufflepuffs were lazy, overly friendly and mellow, and Slytherins were just plain evil. So being sorted into Gryffindor basically meant two things to Tommy: one, he was now a part of the Gryffindor House, and a Gryffindor does as the Gryffindors do, and two, Slytherins were apparently off limits. 

_To hell with that,_ Tommy decided, only two weeks into the year. No one in his house was nearly as nice as Tubbo had been to him, and he felt like an outcast in his own dormitory. Apparently there was a limit as to how brash Gryffindors could truly be, and Tommy was perhaps crossing the line. 

For his first Transfiguration class with the Slytherins, Tommy purposefully sat directly next to Tubbo, who glanced up at him through a fringe of light hair and grinned wildly.

“Tommy!” he had exclaimed. “I thought you would be sitting with all of the Gryffindors.”

“Of course not,” Tommy assured. “You’re my friend! Of course I’m sitting with you.” 

“Good,” Tubbo had said, sounding very relieved, and he went on a long-winded explanation of how all the other Slytherins were much louder and much more chaotic than him, and how he was sort of the outcast in his own House too. So their _real_ friendship had started over that hour-long Transfiguration lesson, in which the two of them bonded over the mutually difficult feeling of being outcasts, and then somehow, by the end of that hour, they had become the closest of friends. They had been inseparable ever since.

Now inside the bookstore, the two of them passed by a display of Astronomy books. Tommy looked curiously at a spinning glass sphere perched on one of the bookshelves, with slowly rotating planets inside of it, turning around in miniature circles and mimicking the night sky exactly. It was likely an absurd amount of Galleons and would probably send Tommy into spiraling debt if he ever bought it, but he would never have to take an Astronomy class again at Hogwarts. 

“Absolutely not,” Tubbo said firmly, catching sight of Tommy’s gaze. “We’re just here for our books. Do you have the list again?”

“Defense Against the Dark Arts Volume III, The Art of Offensive Charms, and Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them,” Tommy repeated dutifully. Tubbo frowned, looked up at the labeling system on each of the winding corridors of Flourish and Blotts, and pulled Tommy by his sleeve down one of the aisles. He pulled two books from the shelves and dropped them into Tommy’s arms dramatically.

“I think it would be a worthy investment,” Tommy said thoughtfully, mind still on the glass sphere. “How expensive could it really be?”

“It says _price on inquiry,”_ Tubbo said. “That means it’s very, very expensive.” 

“How expensive, d'ya reckon? A hundred Galleons?”

“I don’t know,” Tubbo said. “Maybe two hundred? It seemed very pricy.” 

“That’s a lot of money,” Tommy said. “Maybe it’s not worth it. I’ve been saving up for that new broomstick, after all.” 

“I’m thinking about asking for the Comet 360 for my birthday this year,” Tubbo said thoughtfully. “I’d like to try out for the Slytherin Quidditch team sometime.” 

The two of them moved down another aisle, coming upon a cage in the center of the store in which half a dozen fur clad books were in. All sorts of various sounds like growling emerged from within, and both Tubbo and Tommy eyed them warily. As they watched, one of the books launched itself at another, and dug what looked like teeth into the front cover. Pages flew everywhere.

“Maybe we should just get our Care of Magical Creature books later,” Tommy said, and they skirted around the cage, which two Flourish and Blotts employees were now desperately trying to subdue.

“Sounds good,” Tommy agreed, and the two of them ducked down another corridor, vanishing into the depths of the shop. 

Half an hour later, emerged from the thick, dense corridors of Flourish and Blotts into the narrow, winding cobblestone paths of Diagon Alley. Tommy’s arms were full of new textbooks and his pockets were much lighter of spending money. It was midday, and at this point, all types of witches and wizards were out and about, wandering down the street. 

“I need to go to Madam Malkins,” Tubbo said thoughtfully. “I need new robes.”

“Me too,” Tommy said. “Mine are almost too short for me.”

Tubbo grinned and elbowed Tommy in the side. “You got so much taller this summer, it’s very weird. Do you want to go after lunch?” 

Tommy glanced up at a giant clock, which was perched on the balcony of Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop. It showed the time at nearly half past noon. 

“I probably need to go spend time with my parents before they worry about where I’ve run off to,” Tommy said regretfully. “But tomorrow I want to hang out.”

“Of course.” Tubbo took out a step onto the street, and waved. “See you later!”

“See you later,” Tommy said gloomily, and then Tubbo was promptly swallowed by the black robes of the crowd. Tommy looked at the place where he departed mournfully, before turning on his heel and heading back to the Leaky Cauldron. He would need to ask his parents for more money if he wanted to get his robes re-hemmed, but he didn’t want to immediately go back to the room where he was staying; he knew that would signal an end to the first free day he had had in nearly two months, since returning home for the summer, and Tommy didn’t want to do that quite yet.

Instead, his feet led him on a strange but very familiar path to a small green and white striped parlor, smack dab in the center of Diagon Alley. The bell tinkled cheerfully over the door as Tommy pushed it open, immediately enveloped with the delicious smell of melted chocolate and sweet cream. 

This little ice cream parlor was Tommy’s favorite place on Diagon Alley, and he’d never loved any other place more. From the very first day he’d entered it to this moment, Tommy always felt like he was coming home in some way.

“Hey, Tommy,” the person behind the counter said. This time, it was Wilbur Soot, a fifth year Slytherin at Hogwarts this upcoming school year. He had a beanie on, even though the sun had long since burnt off any of the mist from the morning, and it was tugged low over his ears. “How are you?”

“Hiya, Wilbur,” Tommy said, though his tone was slightly gloomy. “I’m alright. You?”

Wilbur shrugged. “Just getting the last out of my summer job.” 

Tommy shrugged as well, put his hands in his pockets, and began the slow, arduous process of reading over the entire list of flavors and toppings. Someone had taken the time to write out every individual one on a massive chalkboard that sprawled across the back of the restaurant, and with a note of interest, Tommy noticed some new flavors. There was a new Galleon flavor, which Tommy wasn’t entirely sure how that one would taste, as well as a _Felix Felicis_ soft serve, which was supposedly going to grant the eater a few minutes of mild luck. Tommy wrinkled his eyebrow. That didn’t sound right.

“Looking at the new flavors?” Wilbur said, with zero emotion in his voice. “Can I interest you in some orange marmalade custard?” 

“I’m more interested in that Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans flavor,” Tommy said, and pointed at the chalkboard. “Does it really taste different with every bite?”

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “You’ll have to try it to find out.”

Tommy curled his lip, but continued scanning the flavors. Wilbur propped up his elbows on the counter, rested his chin in his hands, and looked over at Tommy. 

“You’re a third year this year?”

Tommy nodded. 

“Still going to be Gryffindor Seeker?”

Tommy crossed his fingers and held them above the counter so that Wilbur could see. “Hopefully.” 

Wilbur raised an eyebrow. “Good luck, then.”

“Won’t need it,” Tommy proclaimed. It was true, though— he wouldn’t need the luck. Tommy was one of the best Gryffindor Seekers the House had ever seen. Even though first years weren’t allowed to play on the Quidditch teams, the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain had managed to convince their Head of House that Tommy was the best player they were going to get, and they made an exception. For him! He was the youngest Gryffindor Seeker in about a century.

Wilbur rolled his eyes and corrected himself. “I mean with winning the Quidditch Cup,” he said. “Personally, I’m rooting for Ravenclaw.” 

Tommy scowled. “You’re only rooting for them because of your brother.” 

Wilbur smiled innocuously. “What can I say? I root for only the best players.”

“Speaking of Techno,” Tommy said, and craned his neck so that he could see behind the counter, “Does he happen to be here?”

Wilbur laughed. “No.”

“Oh,” Tommy said. He tried not to feel gloomy about it. He really looked up to Techno, even if he would never admit that to Wilbur’s face. But Techno was practically the best Chaser Hogwarts had ever seen, and he was a tremendously talented Quidditch player. Also, he had the top grades in the school, and was hilariously funny. He was pretty much everything Tommy wanted to be when he grew up. Unfortunately, Techno often got irritated by Tommy. Only slightly, though, but Tommy was determined to work his way into Techno’s good graces. “That’s okay.” 

Then, feeling slightly more hopeful, Tommy tried, “What about Phil?” He loved Phil. “Is he here?”

“He’s in the back,” Wilbur gestured. “I’ll go make him deal with you.”

Tommy rolled his eyes, but he knew that Wilbur meant well. “Fine.” 

Wilbur tsked, and then turned on his heel and vanished behind the swinging back doors. Tommy stuffed his hands in his pockets and his fingers brushed against the folded Hogsmeade permission slip, which he had forgotten was even there. 

Then an idea came upon him in a flash, so brilliant that Tommy couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of it before. 

Why didn’t he just ask Phil to sign the permission slip for him?

“Phil!” Tommy greeted when he emerged from the back room, a familiar striped bucket hat perched on top of his head. At some points Tommy thought that it must have been glued there by magic, for Tommy had never seen it budge ever. 

“Tommy,” Phil said genially, and gave Tommy a grin. “It’s great to see you back.”

“It’s okay,” Tommy said. “It hasn’t been the best summer.”

“Really? Anything bad happen?”

“Not really,” Tommy sighed, and then regained his senses. “I do know what I want to order, if you’re ready.”

“Go for it,” Phil said. 

Almost from heart, Tommy recited, “One banana split sundae please, two scoops vanilla one scoop chocolate, strawberry sauce, caramel, walnuts, sprinkles—”

“Extra whipped cream, and three cherries,” Phil finished for him. “You really must have had a terrible summer, you never order your sundae with strawberry sauce unless you’re having a bad day.”

“It’s been such a long summer,” Tommy said, and tried, “I don’t suppose you want to hear about it?”

Phil looked around at the near empty ice cream parlor, before shrugging. “It’s been a quiet day, I think I can manage.”

“Excellent,” Tommy said, and Phil flicked his wand at the ice cream scoop. Before long there was a sundae of massive proportions being placed in front of Tommy with two spoons dug into the sides of it. Phil pulled a seat up and propped a hand on his chin.

“What’s up?”

“It’s my parents,” Tommy started, and thus began the long, complicated spiel of trying to explain everything that had happened without completely showing Phil just how irresponsible and immature Tommy had been, while also trying to explain just how unfair Tommy’s parents were being to him. Grounding him all summer was one thing, but taking away all of his weekends for the next school year was a whole other thing. It just wasn’t fair. 

Phil was a wonderful listener. He didn’t interrupt Tommy at all, and instead actively listened like it was the most interesting thing he had heard all summer. Tommy very much appreciated him for that. In fact, he appreciated Phil for many things. 

The two of them had met on Tommy’s first afternoon in Diagon Alley, back when he was just a little kid (even though Tommy would protest that he had never been _little_ ). He had gotten lost among the throes of shoppers and wizards, half dressed in sweeping black robes and the other in Muggle garb, and somewhere along the way Tommy had gotten torn from his parents and older siblings and was stuck in the middle of nowhere.

He hadn’t been particularly scared. Even at seven, Tommy was fiercely independent and had a bit of a stubborn streak. So instead of staying put, as another seven year old might have been instructed to do, Tommy wandered throughout the shops and stand up stalls of Diagon Alley. He wandered right into Phil’s ice cream parlor by chance, and Phil folded his arms over the counter and cocked his head curiously at him.

“Are you lost?”

“No,” Tommy had returned stubbornly. “I’m just looking around.”

“Would you like something to eat then?”

Tommy eyed him suspiciously. “Isn’t it dangerous to take candy from strangers?”

Phil raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, kid. What’s your name?”  
“Tommy.”

“Well, Tommy,” Phil said, “I’m Phil, and I’m pretty well known in Diagon Alley. I run this ice cream parlor here. I know you don’t know me very well, but I promise that all my ice cream is safe and very well made.” 

“Do you have banana split sundaes?” Tommy asked hesitantly. 

“Of course.”

“Then I’d like one,” Tommy declared. “With every single topping you have, of course.” 

“Coming right up,” Phil said, and flicked his wand. Tommy watched the movement with wide eyes. 

It wasn’t that he had never seen magic before; it wasn’t that. It was simply that his parents were never one for using magic in the house (particularly as his father was a Muggle, and his mother was a witch) so his parents preferred a use of elbow grease. It was very impressive for a seven-year-old to witness magic being used in such regular ways. 

“How old are you, Tommy?” Phil asked.

“Seven,” Tommy said. “How old are you?”

“Twenty five,” Phil said. “That makes me quite a bit older than you.” 

“I’m almost eight,” Tommy said stubbornly. “I’m not that much younger.”

“Seventeen years still makes me a lot older than you,” Phil said. 

Tommy scowled. “I hate old people.” 

“One day, you’re going to be just as old as me, and you’ll meet a kid who says the exact same thing,” Phil advised him, and then set the largest banana split sundae Tommy had ever seen directly in front of him. Tommy stuck a finger in the whipped cream on the top, and then looked doubtfully at Phil.

“I don’t have any money.”

“That’s okay,” Phil said. “All banana split sundaes are free for seven year old boys named Tommy.”

Tommy had wrinkled his nose. “That’s a very specific rule.” 

Phil shrugged. “What can I say? That’s just the way the world works.” 

Tommy eyed him, but then stuck a spoon in to taste some of the best chocolate ice cream he had ever eaten, and his will was weakened. It was a delicious sundae, even if he could barely finish it. The entire time he was in that little parlor, he and Phil talked, and the next day Tommy purposely slipped away from his parents to go talk to Phil again.

Cut to six years later, and the two of them were practically father and son. Tommy's banana split sundaes were still free.

Tommy finished explaining everything he wanted to say to Phil and sat back with a long sigh. He stuck a spoon of chocolate ice cream into his mouth to distract himself. The ice cream was really delicious. The strawberry sauce was a perfect topping for all of it. It always cheered him right up.

Phil sat back as well, and surveyed Tommy. “I have a feeling you’re not telling me something.”

“I did!” Tommy protested. “It sounds terribly unreasonable. I know.” 

“What did you do to get in so much trouble that your parents aren’t signing that note?”

“Is it really that important?” Tommy said, exasperated. “Honestly, you’re just like them. I bet if you were my dad, you wouldn’t sign this note either.”

Phil didn’t say anything for a moment, and then glanced at Tommy with a shrewd look. “I know what you’re doing.” 

Tommy ducked his head. “I’m not doing anything.”

“You want me to sign this note,” Phil realized.

“Well—”

“Forge it,” Phil corrected, this time with an amused tinge to his voice, “You want me to forge a parents note against your parents' will so you can visit Hogsmeade on the weekends.” 

“Well,” Tommy said, and then stopped short. He wasn’t sure where he wanted to go with that. “Maybe?”

“You could just ask me outright,” Phil offered. 

Tommy stopped stirring the remnants of his chocolate and vanilla ice cream together into a smoothie and decided to simply bite the bullet and ask Phil. After all, he reasoned, it was the perfect way to get out of it. Phil was a legal adult in the Wizarding World, and he was practically one of Tommy’s parents or guardians at this point. 

“Please sign my permission slip,” Tommy said, gritting his teeth. “My parents aren’t going to sign it, come on, Phil, you have to.” 

Phil frowned. “I don’t know about this.”

“Please?”

Uncertainly, Phil said, “I’m not your parent or your guardian. I don’t think I should.”

“Please,” Tommy said, and he was getting dangerously close to begging, “I know it’s a lot to ask, but it would be so much more fun, and I don’t know if I can go through a whole school year at Hogwarts watching all my classmates go to Hogsmeade while I’m stuck there, sitting, doing nothing. I already spent half of last year in detention, don’t you think I deserve a little slack?”

Phil sighed. “Tommy, if you were my kid, you know I would sign it. But you’re not, and I don’t think I’m allowed to do it in place of your parents.”

“My parents will hardly notice,” Tommy blurted. “Besides, I’ve practically spent more time with you than with them.”

Then he stopped, because he hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Phil looked somewhat mollified. 

“I mean, not that I think of you as my parent,” Tommy blurted, “I mean, maybe, I guess I would if I really thought about it, I’ve known you for so long that you might as well be, but…”

He stopped his rambling and looked at Phil curiously for a minute, who had turned away for a split second.

“Tommy,” Phil said carefully, after a moment, “I’m flattered that I am, in theory, your third parent. And you know, I think of you as one of my kids too, just like Wilbur or Techno. But I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me.” 

“I won’t be getting in trouble!” Tommy pleaded. “I promise I’ll be very smart about all of my decisions and I won’t do anything stupid.” He summoned his best puppy dog eyes and looked at Phil again. 

Phil put his head in his hands, let out a heavy sigh, and eventually said, “Fine.” 

Tommy threw his hands up in celebration, splattering whipped cream over one of the tables. Phil shook his head, like he already knew he was making a terrible mistake, and said, “Do you have the paper on you?” 

“Yes!” Tommy declared, and fumbled for his book bag at his side, pulling through it until he found the small, rolled up scrap of paper that he had taken to carrying around with him just in case his parents had decided to change their mind at a specific moment, “It’s right here, you just sign on the line and date it, see, right there.” He pointed towards the line at the bottom of the paper, just in case Phil couldn’t see. 

Phil nodded amusedly, and then he went behind the counter to fetch an Everlasting-Ink quill to scribble down his name. Tommy looked at it with pride and waited until the ink was perfectly dry. 

This year was certainly going to be great.

“Thank you so much,” Tommy gushed. “I’ll make sure to send you all of the fun things I get from Zonko's. I mean Honeydukes! Of course I won’t be buying things from Zonko’s. I”m going to be very responsible.”

“I hope so,” Phil said dryly. “I would hate for things to go south just because of me.”

“It’s already signed,” Tommy said, and quickly stuffed a hand into his pocket just in case Phil tried to retrieve his Hogsmeade permission slip and unsign it somehow. “You’re the best!”

He hefted his books into his arms and grinned at Phil. “I’ll make sure that Wilbur and Techno tell you everything about how good I’m being.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Phil said. “And Wilbur is a Prefect now, so you’d better make sure you behave.”

 _Shit._ “Uh, of course I will,” Tommy said hastily, and bolted before Phil could change his mind. 

* * *

The morning of September first dawned bright early, and Tommy loaded all of his trunks and suitcases onto the trolley and went running, full speed, through the brick wall at Platform 9 ¾. lHe passed through the brick like it was invisible, feeling only the barest wind tickling his hair, and emerged into a wide open train platform. The Hogwarts Express, gleaming bright red, gushed steam into the air, tangling around every bustling motion. Tommy inhaled the scent of it and felt something nice settle into his bones. It felt like returning home.

Fortunately, Tommy found a train compartment with only two miniature first-years inside, who Tommy promptly kicked out by threatening to turn the two of them into frogs. He wasn’t sure how he would even Transfigure people, but he took great pride in seeing the way both of them cleared out of the compartment instantly. He would have to remember that threat for later.

Tommy lugged his trunk onto the luggage racks and relaxed down in the seat. Within minutes, Tubbo knocked at the door and entered the compartment, sliding shut the glass door behind him. 

“Look at this,” Tommy blurted, and thrust the paper at Tubbo, all signed in its glory. 

“You got it signed?” Tubbo said gleefully. “That’s so great!”

Tommy put the paper back in in his pocket and vowed to give it to his Head of House as soon as he saw her again, just in case he lost it. He was sure that they wouldn’t look too closely at whoever signed it— and besides, everyone and their mother knew about how Phil was practically Tommy’s third parent, they knew each other so well. 

“We’re going to have so much fun this year,” Tommy proclaimed. His mind was already racing through all of the options for things that he could buy at Hogsmeade, from barrels of Every Flavor Beans to Fizzing Whizzbees to Drooble’s Best Blowing Gum to Pepper Imps, and at Zonko’s, where Tommy could waste his entire spending money on Extendable Ears, Dungbombs, Hiccough Sweets, Sugar Quills, and Fanged Frisbees. 

He had his signed permission slip (and who cared if it was perhaps, just a little bit, forged by someone who was not his legal guardian?) and he had Tubbo by his side. His third year was dawning on the horizon. 

Tommy looked out the train window and fought the urge to grin. 

Oh, he couldn’t wait to wreak as much havoc as possible.

**Author's Note:**

> if you enjoyed please leave kudos or comments!! they really make my day <3


End file.
